


In which Gil panics (repeatedly)

by Overlord_Bethany



Series: unreliable narrators [2]
Category: Girl Genius (Webcomic)
Genre: Ficlet, Mid-Canon, Multi, i do requests
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-29
Updated: 2018-01-29
Packaged: 2019-03-11 00:20:57
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 495
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13512846
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Overlord_Bethany/pseuds/Overlord_Bethany
Summary: SOMEBODY had to go and get himself in mortal peril. Again.





	In which Gil panics (repeatedly)

Tarvek looked rough. His eyes had gone unfocused, and he swayed a little where he knelt. Catching him by the collar, Gil hauled him to his feet. While Tarvek babbled something half insensible, someone who looked rather like a pirate drifted toward them. 

“None of you can have him,” Gil growled, and the pirate backed away. He set Tarvek on his feet, and the idiot immediately stumbled against him, face-first. Gil sighed. “What’s wrong with you?”

“Shocky. Bleeding out. Poisoned.” Despite his words, Tarvek looked at Gil in a way that made him feel oddly warm inside. Breaking eye contact, Gil pulled Tarvek’s shirt open far enough to get a look at that shoulder wound of his. 

Tarvek swayed. Scowling, Gil held him upright. 

“Yes, of course I’ll marry you.”

Gil almost dropped him. His heartbeat thundered panic in his ears. That couldn’t be… Rational thought hit, and he gave Tarvek a gentle shake. “You’re delirious. Agatha isn’t here.”

Tarvek smiled a slow, small smile, and his eyelids drifted downward. Panicking again, Gil gave him another shake. 

“You have to stay awake.”

It should have made Gil suspicious that Tarvek immediately sagged, his muscles going slack as his breathing grew labored. Instead, Gil’s panic outgrew all rational thought. Giving every appearance of fighting for consciousness, Tarvek whispered his name. Gil’s grip on him tightened. 

“Don’t you dare die.”

Gil leaned closer, their foreheads touching as Tarvek’s breath came more unsteadily than ever. This wasn’t happening. He had not come this far just to lose now. 

Tarvek’s eyes snapped open, his gaze sharpening with alarming speed. “You need a haircut.”

Gil almost dropped him. Again. “You—” He snapped his mouth shut on a stream of terrible swears. “I thought you were dying!” Pain and terror and betrayal whirled within him while Tarvek laughed and pushed unsteadily free. 

Not that any of that should surprise him, really. 

Well, Gil decided, if Tarvek wanted to play these stupid games still, he could rise to the occasion. “If you’re serious about marriage,” he said, “you should have offered a nice betrothal gift.”

Tarvek did not look up from tying his hair back. “Sure. What’s your idea of a ‘nice’ gift? More wine than your fleet can carry? I’ll need my holdings back for that,” he added, his tone souring. 

Gil refused to let Tarvek win. “How about one of the Muses?”

Tarvek sat down, and for a moment, Gil thought victory was his. Then Tarvek said, “Would you like one in a state of disrepair, or shall I build you a new one?”

Gil choked back a noise of surprise. He refused to give Tarvek the satisfaction. Scowling, he fished around in his pockets for bandages. “I’ll let you know when I’ve decided,” he growled, and Tarvek merely nodded. Perhaps they had carried the joke as far as it would go. 

Perhaps…

Or perhaps he had just accidentally gotten engaged. 

Wouldn’t  _that_  be something to tell Xerxsephina von Blitzengaard?


End file.
